


i almost fell right through (but i held onto you)

by hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Fix-It, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28194840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiasobi_writes/pseuds/hollyandvice
Summary: There's no way Thor doesn't know what his answer will be. Still, he asks. "You are going to do this, are you not?"Steve turns away. "I need to make a call."After six years of trying and failing to find Tony post-Endgame, Steve finally gets the news that there's a chance to save him. The cost is steep, but Steve is willing to pay it. The only question is, is Tony willing?An Orpheus and Eurydice style Endgame fix-it fic.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 108
Collections: 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange





	i almost fell right through (but i held onto you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cap Iron Man Community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cap+Iron+Man+Community).



> Written for the following Cap-IM Community prompt:
> 
> _Post-Endgame. Steve as Orpheus who journeys to the underworld to bring back Tony, or however one wants to interpret or twist that. Maybe a happy ending unlike the original myth?_
> 
> I started this fic last year for the same prompt but stalled out near the end. I ended up writing something similar for another challenge, but with 13k words of this just lying around, I was feeling a bit discouraged that I'd probably never pick this version back up again. Seeing the prompt on the list again this year was the kick in the pants I needed to finish that original draft. Hope you all enjoy!!
> 
> Title from the Ryan Cabrera song On the Way Down.

"Valhalla. It took you this long to figure out he was in Valhalla?"

Thor raises an eyebrow. He's been around Steve and his desperation long enough that he seems unperturbed by the outburst. "Aye, Captain. He is in Valhalla."

"Then why didn't you bring him back with you?"

"It is not my place, Captain. It is not anyone that can travel to Valhalla and return with a warrior unscathed."

"Then what does it take?"

"No one has ever brought someone back unharmed from Valhalla. There was one that came close. But he failed in the greatest endeavor and ambition of all. He did not trust in the companion he sought to bring back. The shield-arm to his sword-arm. He got to the edge of the world, the end of Valhalla's domain, and as he sought to cross the border he turned back to his shield-arm and broke the spell that had been placed over them to bring them home safely."

Steve glares at Thor. "I won't fail him."

"So you say. But how can you be sure?"

"Because I would do anything it takes to bring him back."

Thor meets Steve's eyes head-on, head tilted to the side. There's a quiet sort of thoughtfulness in his eyes, unknowing or not understanding the depth of loss that Steve has suffered in losing Tony. "You truly think conviction is all it takes."

"I know my conviction will do more than anyone could have expected of me otherwise."

Thor sighs. "Alright then, Captain. I will make the preparations."

Steve nods. "What will it cost me?"

"Only your trust, Captain. If you can trust in him, in this path, in this world, then you have nothing to fear. You will bring him home safely."

"And If my trust falters?"

Thor's smile is tired. "Then you will not see him again."

Steve's heart constricts. "Ever?"

"Only the valiant make it to Valhalla. If you fail to see him as what he is, as what he could be, and if you fail to trust in his trust in you, then there's nothing you can do to gain entrance to Valhalla."

Steve swallows. "So it's do it right this time or never see him again?"

"Or you can wait, Captain. You can wait until it is your time to join him in Valhalla."

"What's to say I'd have a place in Valhalla anyway?"

"You are a noble warrior, Captain. You always have been. In this too you are the man that you want to be. If you can stay strong in your convictions, there is nothing that can be done to keep you from Valhalla."

Steve closes his eyes. "I see."

Thor waits, and Steve can feel his eyes on him. There's no way Thor doesn't know what result is going to arrive. He's the one that helped Steve find this path in the first place. He's the one that's stood at Steve's side as he sought all the possibilities and options that stood between him and Tony. There's no way this could have escaped Thor's understanding. Still, he asks. "You are going to do this, are you not?"

Steve turns away. "I need to make a call."

* * *

"Uncle Steve!"

Steve's heart wrenches in his chest at the sound of Morgan's voice. He wishes he was used to it, wishes he understood the warmth in her tone toward the person that stole her father from her. There's no way she doesn't understand, not at eleven and seeing the world with preteen eyes. She must understand the path behind him, must know what he did to Tony. And if she doesn't—

If she doesn't yet, it's only a matter of time.

He scoops her up into his arms, relishing the way she laughs. It isn't Tony's laugh, but it's near enough that he used to be able to make do. Used to be able to pretend that he loved her the same way he loved Tony. That she meant as much. She does, but it isn't the same.

It isn't the same.

"Hey baby girl."

Morgan smacks his arm. "Not a baby anymore, Uncle Steve. Haven't been in years."

Steve smiles, settling her against his hip as he brushes her bangs from her face. They're long. She must be growing them out. "No. I don't suppose you are."

"What are you doing here? Mama said you needed to talk to her?"

Steve's chest goes tight. "I do. I had a question for her."

Morgan hums, wiggling enough that he lowers her easily to the ground. "I'll go get her."

Steve doesn't have a chance to let her know that she doesn't need to do that, that he'd much rather talk to her and stave off the conversation with Pepper as long as possible. He thinks he knows what she's going to say to him, but there's always a chance that things will go differently than he's expecting them to. He's not sure he can handle that if it comes. He follows Morgan inside anyway, his steps slow enough that he can only hope Pepper isn't lying in wait.

He follows the sound of Morgan's voice to the kitchen. It isn't the homey kind of kitchen Morgan had presumably grown up in. They've moved back into the city, to a smart little apartment that nonetheless has elements of Tony in every inch of the place. Tony and Morgan and Pepper, the perfect little family that they should have been. Or maybe not perfect, but certainly ideal. Idyllic. Beautiful. They're everything that Steve always wanted for Tony, the family and life and strength and power that he deserves. It's all he's ever wanted for Tony right there in front of him, and Steve doesn't get to take that away. He could try, he just doesn't dare do so.

He doesn't dare.

"Morgan, what is it?"

Steve closes his eyes at the closeness and warmth of Pepper's voice. This is the woman Tony chose. This is the woman that Tony deserves. And Steve—

Steve just wants to bring him back to her.

"It's Uncle Steve, Mama!"

Steve steps around the corner into the kitchen, heart in his throat. He smiles for Pepper, heart aching at the expression in her eyes. "Steve."

"Pepper."

Her smile is small and fragile, aching as it forces its way into place. "How are you?"

Steve lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "Been better. Been worse."

Pepper nods. "What brings you here?"

"Thor thinks he's found something."

Pepper stiffens. "Oh?"

Steve reaches up to brush his bangs away, an old habit he hasn't fallen into in years. Anything to give him a chance to break her gaze. "I know—" He stops. Swallows. Tries to find his reasons again. "I know you wanted me to stop looking, but Pepper… you know me better than that."

Pepper doesn't answer. Steve forces himself to look up. His eyes catch on the way one hand rests calmly on Morgan's shoulder and the other is clenched in a white-knuckled grip on the countertop. "I do."

Steve closes his eyes. It's an old fight, an old condemnation of his choices when Tony was still— when Tony—

Steve looks up at her, trying to convey all the determination and certainty he has in his chest. "Thor thinks he's found something," he repeats.

Pepper closes her eyes, seeming to steel herself for what she's about to do. She kneels down in front of Morgan, a watery smile on her face as she looks down at her daughter. "Morgan, sweetie, why don't you go up to your room for a bit. Mama needs to talk to Uncle Steve."

Morgan stays quiet for a moment, her eyes searching Pepper's. Then she smiles at her mother and nods. She turns on her heel, walking past Steve with a confused look on her face. Steve musters a smile for her, heart in his throat as she walks away.

It's for her too. It's mostly for him — he knows he's always been a selfish bastard — but it's for her too. Her and Rhodes and Happy and Peter and _Pepper_ and—

Pepper turns away, plunging her hands back into the water in the sink. She's scrubbing at a plate in there, her wrists turning pink from the heat of the water. Steve doesn't let himself ask why she doesn't use gloves, doesn't let himself wonder. Instead he walks around the kitchen island, giving her enough warning and enough of a wide berth that she can stop him if she wants to. A single word and he'd walk away. They both know it, they've both seen how he caves for her, for Morgan, for everyone that Tony loved.

Everyone but him. Because Tony never—

"Thor thinks he found something."

"So you've said." Pepper's voice is sharp and harsh as she rinses the plate off and hands it to Steve. Steve takes it on autopilot, no more than a memory of what he'd done all those months after Tony had died. When he'd thought this might be enough. When he'd thought he could care for Pepper, could provide for Morgan, could stand in for Tony in a way that he'd thought no one else ever could have. Pepper doesn't spare him a glance as she tosses him a dishtowel. This too he catches automatically before he turns to stand at her side, drying the plate and setting it aside to be put away later. It's a new kitchen. He doesn't know where it's supposed to go.

Pepper shoots him a withering look. "Steve. It's my kitchen. You know where it goes."

Steve winces and then reaches over to the cupboard to his right to put the plate away. It settles there perfectly in place, just as it always did.

Pepper goes back to her dishes, the silence speaking enough for her. Steve takes each dish that she hands him, dries it, puts it away. It's easy as anything, familiar and comfortable. For a moment— for a long moment he settles into the ease of the motions, the domesticity of the chore. It settles into his bones, against his skin, and it feels as natural as breathing.

Right up until he turns to see not Tony at his side, but Pepper.

The sight of her hair, vibrant and bright as always, is a shock to his system. A reminder that, for all that they've done and all that the future has given him, it has taken perhaps the most crucial element of it all.

Tony.

Pepper seems to feel Steve's eyes on her. She leans forward, white-knuckling the sides of the sink as she stares down into the water. "Steve. I can't do this with you."

"You don't have to do anything. I just want your blessing."

Pepper closes her eyes. "I don't know if I can do that either, Steve."

"He's your husband, Pepper. The father of your child. He's—"

"Was, Steve. He was." The words sound ripped from her throat, aching and pained and Steve tries not to go reeling away from the sound. "He's been dead six years, Steve, and while you decided you could go off gallivanting around the world on every harebrained scheme that you thought might bring him back to us I was here, raising his daughter and running his company. I've been living here, watching the shadows of what he left behind. So don't you dare stand there and tell me that there's something of him left in this world. There isn't, Steve. He's dead and gone and has been for six years."

"Pepper—"

"Don't." Pepper throws the plate in her hands down into the sink. Water sloshes over the sides of the sink, dousing Steve's shoes and Pepper's shirt. "Don't."

Steve swallows and steps away, just far enough that she knows he isn't a threat at all. He bites his tongue and looks — really looks at her for the first time since he arrived. There's a tension in her shoulders, but one that doesn't seem as deep-seated as it once had been. She's got makeup on, even here at home, where once she'd never meddled in such perceived vanity. And there's—

There's a ring on her finger.

Steve's throat goes tight. "You're seeing someone."

She laughs, a harsh, broken sound. "The wedding is in nine months. Your invitation must have gotten lost in the mail."

Steve closes his eyes. There's so much weight in her words, so much pain, so much damnation and loss and accusation. He wants so badly to say the word, but he can't. Not when it's Tony's wife— Tony's _widow_ that he's looking at. That he's talking to.

"You can't even be happy for me?"

"I am, Pepper. I just wish you'd believed a little more."

"Belief only gets us so far, Steve. I was done living by myself. I was done looking out for our daughter — _my daughter_ — alone. She deserves someone in her life like that, Steve. We both do."

"I would have—"

"What, Steve?" She turns to him, her eyes bright and wild with emotions he knows now he's only seeing the beginnings of. "What would you have done? Looked harder to find a way to bring him back? Tried harder to fight the powers of life and death and revive him? Or would you have done what I really needed and stood at my side to help raise my daughter? His daughter?"

Steve's throat goes tight with pain and loss and longing. "Pepper—"

"If you loved him, you wouldn't be chasing his shadow. You'd be standing beside the people he left behind and making their lives as comfortable and secure as you possibly could. But you aren't, Steve. You didn't. You walked away from us."

"I walked away to try to bring him back to you."

"You walked away and there's no denying that that's what you would have done even if I'd called you out on your shit when this whole thing started. You're a selfish man, Steve Rogers, and no one knows that better than I do, except maybe my late husband."

The words are a slap in the face. Steve doesn't quite stagger away, but it's a near thing. He swallows, trying to meet Pepper's eyes, but he can't. Knowing that he hasn't stood at her side through the worst of it, that he hasn't been the companion to her that he'd once intended to be, knowing that there's still so much for him to do, still so far for him to go… it's too much. It's too much for him to swallow. He closes his eyes again, settling into the pain in his chest. The ache and loss and quiet sort of wonder that he could have been so blind to what Pepper wanted — to what Pepper _needed_ — that he could have walked in here so blindly and arrogantly.

He forces the bile down and looks up to meet Pepper's eyes. "I'm sorry."

All at once, the fight seems to go out of Pepper. She slumps, tugging at her soaked shirt. "What a pair we are," she mumbles.

Steve doesn't smile, but it's a near thing. "We really are."

Pepper closes her eyes, shivering a little. Steve isn't so presumptuous as to think he can reach out to her now, but he wants to. He wants to, so badly. It isn't the same as holding Tony in his arms again might be, isn't the same as mending all the bridges he's burned, but it might come close. It might.

But he doesn't. He lost that right the first time he walked out the door to try to bring Tony back. She'd tried to tell him then, tried to make him understand that bringing Tony back wasn't what she'd needed. Pepper was always the practical one, always living with both feet on the ground, her eyes pointed toward the horizon, but never any higher than that. She'd tempered Tony's flights of fancy because he'd let her, but Steve had never given her that same due.

He'd run headlong into the world in front of him, made it be whatever he needed it to be, whatever he wanted it to be, fought forward and through and onward to be the person he thought he was supposed to be. Fought in the way that the world asked him to, the way he himself asked, the way he needed to if it was the cost of bringing Tony back. He'd done whatever he thought he needed to do to make the world his, to make the future his when it couldn't be Tony's. He'd tried to bring Tony back, tried to do what he could, and there was nothing— _nothing_ that could undo the pain he'd caused as a result.

And this is the price. Pepper, unwilling to give her blessing to bring her husband back.

He'd been so close. He'd thought that maybe, this time, he'd get it right. But the world had just thrown that in his face. There's too much here, too much to look at and try to know and fail to understand. There's nothing left here but the broken life he's created for himself.

"I'm sorry," he says again.

Pepper sighs. "I know you are, Steve. I just. I don't understand why you'd come here in the first place. You've spent so long doing whatever you needed to do, whatever you wanted to do to try to bring Tony back. What's changed? Why do you need us now?"

"I always needed you, Pepper. You and Morgan and Rhodes and the rest. I always needed all of you. I never could have brought Tony back alone. But I thought I was the only one that could find out how. The only one that needed him back badly enough to search out the secrets of the universe. There's no way— there's no way I could ever have asked any of you to go on the journeys I've gone on to try to bring him back. It wouldn't be fair. So I can't— I couldn't ask that of you. I couldn't."

"You could have."

Steve looks away. "I didn't want to."

He sees Pepper nod out of the corner of his eye. "Now we're getting somewhere. Why didn't you want to?"

"Because I wanted to be the one to do it. I'm the reason he's dead. I have to be the reason he comes back."

Pepper takes a sharp inhale at those words. "Your fault? How do you figure that?"

Steve shrugs, rubbing idly at his left elbow, an old habit he must have borrowed from Tony. "I'm the one that brought him back in. I'm the one that asked him to come fight. To create the mechanism for time travel. I did that, Pepper. I— I killed him."

"Oh, Steve." There's more warmth in her voice than Steve thinks he deserves, more understanding and care than he wants.

He shakes his head. "Don't. Pepper, just… don't. I don't deserve it."

"You know, Steve, getting Tony to do something he doesn't want to do… not even I ever managed that."

"I could have left him well enough alone. I could have gone to Bruce first; I knew he could do something. I could have— I could have ignored what Scott said, Pepper."

"No, you couldn't have."

"I could have. I—" Steve's shoulders slump, and he looks down at the floor, heart in his throat. "I could have walked away."

Pepper takes two short steps toward him, her heels clacking on the tile. She reaches up to cup his cheek, tilting his head up to look at her. "No, Steve. You couldn't have. No more than Tony could have. You're both too noble and too stubborn and too damn brilliant to walk away when there's someone in need."

"I'm not."

Pepper smiles and tugs Steve down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You are, Steve. You've both always been so much more than you ever gave yourselves credit for. It's why I loved him. It's why I can understand why you want to bring him back. I just don't see the world the way you do, Steve. I don't see the possibilities that you have all built with your own two hands. All I can see is what my world has brought me. A daughter and a life with my first husband, and maybe a future with my second husband. It's more than I think I ever could have asked for or expected when Tony first hired me. It's been the kind of life I want to deserve.

"But you, Steve. You can do the same sort of impossible things Tony could. Can see the world through the lens of what it could be, instead of what it is. You deserve to have that again. You deserve to bring our Tony home."

Steve pulls away, searching her eyes for any kind of deceit or uncertainty. "You mean it?"

"Steve…" She shakes her head. "Steve, I don't know what the world holds for me, or for you, or for Tony. But I know that if I didn't give you my blessing, I'd spend my whole life wondering. I'd spend my whole life regretting, because I know what it would do to you for me to say no. I know what it would do to me to know that Morgan could have had a chance to really know her father and I'd told you no. So yes, Steve, I will give you my blessing, but on one condition."

"Anything."

"Tell him about my choice. Tell him that if he comes back, it won't be to me as his wife. I've spent too long without him to be able to go back to what we were. I won't keep him out of Morgan's life and I won't ask him not to be involved in her upbringing. I won't do anything to take that away from him. But I won't… I won't be his wife anymore."

Steve's breath catches. It might be a damnation, might be enough to have Tony turning away from him in Valhalla and trying his hand with the warriors that reside there instead. It might be too much for even Tony to stomach.

But it's all Pepper wants in return for her blessing to go, the one thing Thor had refused to let him go without.

Steve nods. "Alright. I can do that."

"And don't… don't tell me if he refuses to come back for that reason. I don't… I don't think I could stand knowing."

Steve closes his eyes. "If that's what you want."

"It is."

Steve nods and steps away from Pepper's embrace. "Then there's only one more person left to ask."

Steve isn't at all surprised to see Morgan's bedroom door wide open when they make their way over to see her, or to see her wrapped around the stuffed Iron Bear that's been her companion for years, or to see the wide-eyed look on her face when she looks up at Steve. He's not surprised in the slightest that she figured out a way to hear their whole conversation.

"Is it true?" she asks. "Can you really bring Daddy back?"

From the way Pepper's breath catches, Steve thinks it's the first time she's referred to Tony by that name in a long time. It breaks his heart a little.

He crouches down in front of the bed so that he's at eye-level with her. "I think so, princess. I think I found a way to bring your Daddy back. It might work. It might not. I don't even know if I'll be able to make it back if I go. But I can bring him back, if you want me to. Only if you want me to."

Morgan looks up at Pepper, her eyes bright and knowing. "If Daddy comes back, does that mean I have to start calling Papa Uncle Happy again?"

Steve stays perfectly still, hanging onto the hope that his non-reaction won't be as much of a giveaway as he fears.

But Pepper's all gentle warmth when she speaks. "No, baby. Happy and I will still get married, and he'll be your Papa."

Morgan nods. "Betsy has two mamas and a papa. It would be like that?"

Steve's heart clenches at the easy acceptance in Morgan's words. The understanding and warmth and hope for the life she could have with Tony back at her side.

"Kind of, It's— It's a little more complicated than that. But yes, sweetie. It's the same basic idea."

Morgan nods, then turns back to Steve, her face solemn. "Then before I let you go, you have to promise me two things."

Steve blinks. "What's that, princess?"

"First, you have to promise me that you'll come home safe."

Steve's breath freezes in his chest. The words, the idea of such a promise is too much for him to bear. He can't even begin to imagine what it would be like to promise her such a thing. To promise her that, whatever happens, he'll return? That he'd leave Tony behind if he found him, to return to Morgan? Would he really be able to do that?

Morgan reaches out, her hand small against his cheek, but nowhere near as small as it was the last time she did this. It's a damning reminder of how far removed he is from her life, how long it's been since he saw her. He's letting his own time with Morgan slip away in his potentially fruitless quest to bring Tony back. He can't breathe through the ache in his chest, the thought that she might grow up without knowing his version of Tony, the man that he was in Steve's eyes. "Promise me."

He swallows. "I promise, princess. I'll come home."

"And second, if this doesn't work, I want you to come back to New York. Permanently."

There's a brief clench in his belly at the words. Give up the fight? Leave Tony behind? The thought doesn't sit well with him. But the pain passes through him quickly enough, the memory of how little he wants to leave Morgan behind crushing any need to continue his quest beyond this final attempt. He looks up at Morgan and nods.

" _Promise_ me, Uncle Steve."

Steve chuckles, the sound rough and foreign in his throat. "I promise, princess." He leans up to press a kiss to her forehead. "I promise."

She nods in return, looking soothed and convinced. "Good. Then you have my blessing."

Steve smiles, small and tight, and leans up to hug her. "I'll bring him home, princess. And if I don't, I promise I'll start coming around a lot more."

She hugs him back, tight, with the certainty that only a child can provide. "Come home safe, Uncle Steve."

Steve buries his face in her neck. "I will, princess."

He holds the hug longer than he usually might, letting himself linger in the last remnant of Tony. She's more than his shadow — he knows that — but in this moment he needs the reminder of why he's doing this. Who he's doing this for. Because beyond his own selfishness, there's a reason for all of this. A reason to pass through whatever portal Loki might conjure up for him, through whatever damnation Valhalla might place in his path. Whatever is to come, Steve will face it head-on because that's who he is. It's what he lives for. It is, for now, his reason for existing.

He clings a little tighter to Morgan. And he'll come back for this little girl. For the woman that she could become. For the world that could have been if she'd had her father there sooner. And maybe, just maybe, it will be enough.

He forces himself to release Morgan, to cup her face in his hands. He kisses her forehead again and then gets to his feet. He turns to Pepper, hugging her briefly and kissing her cheek as well. "I'll be back."

Pepper smiles, gentle and stern all at the same time. A mother's smile. "See to it that you are, soldier."

Steve doesn't quite rock back on his heels at the force of the nickname, but it's a near thing. Pepper seems to see right through him, though, and simply smiles indulgently. She knew what she was doing. She always does.

Steve nods again, turning away and moving toward the future. Toward whatever the world will be for him. There's so much ahead of him, so much beyond, and there's nothing to do but to keep moving forward.

This is for Tony. That's all that matters.

* * *

Thor doesn't look surprised when Steve seeks him out again, but he does seem a bit startled that he's gotten Pepper's blessing on top of all the others. They'd both known Peter and Rhodes would be easy, and whatever blessing Loki needed to bestow upon him as his waypoint was a given with Thor at his shoulder.

"And the child?"

"She agreed as well."

Loki snorts from where he's standing at Thor's side. Steve's long since given up trying to figure out how Loki does what he does, long since realized that trying to understand Loki is a one-way ticket to madness. Trying to understand his relationship with Thor is even more confusing.

Thor turns to look at Loki sharply. "What is it?"

"They may have granted him their blessing, but not without a cost. Isn't that right, Captain?"

Steve winces. He hadn't thought he'd need to tell them that.

Loki sees the reaction, and immediately makes his way over to Steve, eyes alighting on his face. "A truth told," he murmurs, fingers ghosting through the air over Steve's mouth. "A truth kept hidden." The hand moves over Steve's forehead that time. "A safe return." Over his shoulder that time. "And a future with his child." Loki's hand comes to rest in the air over Steve's heart, and as he speaks the last word, Steve feels the heat of Loki's magic course through his veins. He sucks in a sharp breath, his heart beating double time in his chest as he tries to center himself, tries to make the world right itself in front of his dazed eyes. When he comes back to himself, Loki's holding back an enraged Thor, Loki's eyes bright and sharp as he whispers in hushed tones.

"The blessing only works if honored truly, you buffoon. I can't send him into Valhalla with half a boon. He'd die before he crossed the first threshold. How would that repay the kindness the universe has given us?"

Steve doesn't ask. He just stands up straight and meets Thor's eyes head-on. Thor searches his face. Whatever he finds must satisfy him, because he slumps a little before he backs away from Loki's hold. "Alright, then. See to it, brother."

Loki nods, tracing his hands through the air around Steve. Steve tries to follow the motions, but Thor interrupts, dragging Steve's attention away. "The trek will be long and dangerous. It is not meant for mortal men."

"Good thing I'm not mortal, then."

Thor barks out a startled laugh, as though he'd forgotten that moment in the Tower so many years ago. "No, Captain, I don't suppose you are." Then he sobers. "Tread carefully, my friend." He places a satchel at Steve's feet and steps back. "Eat only what I have given you, drink only from the stream when it flows beneath the great juniper trees. That is how you will know it is safe. And whatever you do, honor the promise the judges ask of you. To fail in your word to them, or to Pepper or Morgan would be enough to undo all the work that you have done to this point. Walk with pride, with your head held high, but remember that you are there by the grace and good fortune of those that loved him as you do."

Steve swallows. It seems a lot to ask, but if it's the cost of bringing Tony back he'll pay it willingly. Whether he has to lay down his life or his afterlife in exchange for Tony's safe passage, he'll do it without question. Proudly. Gladly.

He nods at Thor. "I understand."

Steve bends to pick up the satchel. It's heavier than he'd expected given its size, and it belies a trip much longer than he had originally anticipated. But he can do whatever needs to be done to bring Tony home, and this is the least of his concerns. He shoulders the pack and meets Thor's eyes.

"I'll bring him back."

Loki snorts. "Worry about yourself, handsome."

Steve startles, turning toward where Loki seems to be finishing up the wards around him. "What does that mean?"

Loki just smirks, eyes bright and hands quick and fluid as he finishes off the last of the runes. "Best of luck, Captain."

Then the world is vanishing from around him and there's nothing for it but to lean into the sensation and think of nothing but Tony.

* * *

Valhalla is nothing like he'd expected. When he'd heard tales of it, it was all revelry and chaotic joy, the people dancing and fighting and moving in the ways that he'd only ever imagined himself experiencing. There's a whole world around him here, and it's nothing like all that.

Instead, it's barren wasteland, ice and snow as far as the eye can see. The blinding white is enough to make him shield his eyes as he looks around over the endless expanse, staring at what his fate is for the near future. It isn't what he'd expected, but then, Loki had said there would be more to it than just arriving in Valhalla, had he not? A trek, he'd said. A path to travel.

Steve turns in a slow circle. The trickster had said he would know which way to go. Had said he'd understand what to do. That he'd feel the pull of Tony's soul, the one he's there to seek out.

He does. He feels it in the pit of his stomach somewhere between a two-thirds and a three-quarters turn. It's a slight sensation, a tug in his gut that feels almost like a hook behind his belly button. It tugs him forward, and he takes two stumbling steps in that direction, automatic and unrelenting. This is where he is being summoned, so this is where he will go. The pull itself is a good sign. It means that Tony is still thinking of the living world. That he's still attached to what he left behind. It's painful to think of Tony here, alone and wishing for the world above, but then, there must be others here that he knows. Others that he could befriend. Surely he isn't completely alone or bereft.

Steve follows the tug three more steps, and it settles a bit more firmly in his stomach as he stumbles and staggers his way across the ice. He feels only the slightest chill in his bones as he walks, well-insulated and warmed as Loki has insisted he be. It's not an easy thing to balance in the spikes on his boots at first, but once he gets the hang of it he's altogether too grateful for their presence. It's slow going, but the longer he walks, the more certain his footsteps become.

He makes decent time through the first morning. Once or twice his focus drifts and he loses the tug on his soul, but the instant he notices he freezes and finds it again. Each time the finding is again a relief, a warmth that tempers the chill of the icy wasteland.

Steve stops briefly around what he thinks must be midday, unless his internal clock is completely wrecked. He pulls the satchel off his back, opening it and seeing what Thor and Loki have left him. The food isn't anything special to look at, but the second Steve takes a bite he knows that wasn't for lack of trying. There's a burst of flavor on his tongue, rich and savory. Three bites have him pausing, feeling more full than he has in a long while. Steve chuckles, his mind going automatically to Tolkien. Lembas, he thinks.

He replaces the remaining rations, not wanting to risk running out of anything so early in his quest.

The next two days continue in much the same manner, with nothing much to look at. Early in the morning of the second day, Steve runs into a stream. Under the pale shade of the juniper tree, Steve kneels to drink. It's perfection, cool and sweet, and Steve is only grateful that the pull had brought him to a safe place to drink, not anywhere that could have hurt him.

As he stands, the pull in his stomach twists sharply downstream. Steve gasps a little at the quickness of the shift. He's learned by now how to sense the smaller shifts so that he doesn't lose the tether completely, so the abrupt change is jarring. As soon as Steve gets his bearings back, he looks down at his stomach, hand settling there as though it might bring him closer to Tony.

"You guided me here, didn't you? Brought me somewhere safe."

The tug doesn't reply.

Steve sighs and forces himself to be a bit more practical. It was coincidence, surely, or the wilderness looking out for him. Nothing more than that, surely.

Steve goes back to marching downriver along with the pull from his stomach, leaning into the tug and twist and turn and want. It's not easy, but it's something.

Near the end of day three, the stream becomes a river, and starts twisting through a sprawling forest. There's something to be said for greenery after three days with nothing but ice and snow for company, but Steve can't help but be wary. If he loses the pull, or if he loses the stream. Well. Neither would be good.

But the pull is there, unrelenting and certain in the way it pulls him forward. In the meager protection offered by the overhanging trees, Steve finds himself not concerned as he had feared, but more relaxed. As though, for the first time, he can let down his guard ever so slightly and let the world of Valhalla settle over his shoulders. The quiet and peace settles against his bones in a way that he'd forgotten the world could, in a way that makes him at once certain and wary of what is to come.

Still. The connection is there. He can still make his way to Tony.

He beds down that night and truly rests for the first time since he arrived in Valhalla. When he wakes, it is with a renewed energy and certainty that this world could be what he'd thought it would be. He can still make it to Tony. Everything will be fine.

Steve moves quickly and quietly through the forest, his eyes bright on every last twist and turn the path provides. It's Tony in every passing moment, his whole world twisting and turning around him as he seeks the only person that has even made the 21st century bearable. Sam helped, had reminded him that there are warriors in the world, soldiers still fighting the good fight. Getting Bucky back had helped too, reminding him that his past was as much a part of him as anything else. But Tony.

Tony was the one that was there when he woke up, pushing him higher further faster until he could be the best version of himself that he could possibly imagine. Tony had stood at his side, helped him want to be more and bigger and better. He'd been everything in those first few months when all Steve had wanted to do was drive and run and hide. Pretend the world wasn't his anymore. That he was back in the 1940s, his whole self buried in the world that had been his for so long. But this wasn't his world anymore, he'd thought. He'd thought there was so much more than the past behind him, in front of him, his whole world in front of him. There was so much more in the world than he could do without Tony at his side.

Even when they disagreed about the Accords, the whole thing had been buried in his chest, in his heart in his soul, the memory of the world he'd left behind is all that matters in this moment. There's so much here, so much still to do, and a whole world in front of him making it seem as barren and desolate as it had in 2012 when he'd woken without knowing Tony. With Howard dead and gone and only his son left behind. Peggy so far from his reach, aged and forgetful and nothing like the vibrant beauty he'd fallen for the first time around. He'd stood and watched what was left behind, what the world had left him with, what the ice had left him with, and it had seemed useless, barren and beyond his reach. There was so much he couldn't do anymore with the future standing in front of him and around him, aching and pressing against his soul in this way, more than he could conceive of more than he could reach for. He'd stood there, heart and soul borne like the grace and the pain and ache and all that was left behind him. And Tony had stood there, heart and soul laid bare, everything Tony could do for Steve made apparent from the moment they'd crossed paths. 

And Steve? What had Steve ever given Tony? A hard time, a pain in the ass, and a broken, shattered life. He'd torn Tony from the small pocket of happiness he'd carved out for himself in the world and forced him back into the world of superheroing, the whole thing wrapped up in his brain and body and soul as he'd waited for what Tony needed. What he'd thought they all needed. But it hadn't been for Tony. It had all been for himself.

This, too, may not be for Tony. May not be for Pepper or Morgan or any of the rest of the world that he claims it's for. Maybe it's just for him, to assuage his guilt and pain and wonder about what the world would be like without Tony at his side. He hates this world, hates what it's become, hates staring it down with nothing but a broken, shattered shield at his side. There's a whole world that he could slice to pieces with the sharp edge of that vibranium shield, could tear them all to pieces even after T'Challa had given him a new shield to carry in the place of his old one, could be so much more than he'd ever let himself believe in this world, in this heart and body and soul. There's nothing for him here but to save Tony, and, yes, this is his selfishness exposed in front of the world to question and judge and wonder at.

This is his heart and soul brought before the judges to pass a verdict on his worth and virtue.

There's no way this is going to be anything but the worth and value and hope and wholeness that Tony had given him. Even when he has to hand Tony back over to Pepper, has to remind himself that all this was, ostensibly, for Pepper and Morgan, Even then, he'll know in his heart that this was all for himself. To not have to live in a world without Tony.

And if the cost of that is his own life, well then, so be it.

But no. Morgan had said he had to come home safely. Steve stands a little taller at that, knees creaking in the cold even as he goes. He has to hold on. For Morgan. For Pepper. For Rhodes and Happy and Peter. For Tony.

When he beds down on the seventh night, still in the dark of the luscious forest, he clings to that thought a bit harder than usual. For Tony.

For Tony.

* * *

Steve wakes the next morning not in the depths of the forest, but in a bed. Sleep sloughs off quick and easy, skin settling against his bones and mind settling against body as he takes in his surroundings. His pack is still there, just over half of the food he'd started with still present. There's an ease in his chest at the recognition, but he fights down any sort of temperance or complacency that might overwhelm him. He stays on high alert even as the warmth of the room seeps into his bones. The rich red linens and deep blue tapestries are a sharp contrast to the week of nothing but gray and cold, or the green of evergreen needles that had made the ground their home beneath his feet in the forest. For all that this place could be comforting, could feel a bit like home, it isn't, and he has to remember why he's here.

… Why is he here again?

The door opens, and Steve is overcome with the warmth and comfort at seeing another human being after so long alone. He opens his mouth to speak, but his throat is dry. She hands him a goblet and he forces himself to drink slowly, without guzzling it all down.

When he's drunk his fill, he turns to the woman standing before him. She's dressed in simple white linens. An attendant, perhaps.

"Where am I?" he asks.

"You are in Valhalla, my good captain. You have come here of your own volition before your time, and we wish to make your time here as comfortable as possible before we return you to the world of the living."

Something in that doesn't sit right with Steve, but he can't tell what it is well enough to put it to words. "I see."

The woman titters, something that might be a laugh in another lifetime. "I daresay you don't, good captain. Come." She takes his hand. "I am to acquaint you with our grounds."

Steve goes willingly, following her every move. He stares at everything, the warmth and the comfort teetering into opulence and excess. He thinks he's never seen anything so wide and bright and wonderful as this place. It sinks its claws into his skin and kneads at his muscles, encouraging him to stay. Demanding that he stay. It leaves him unsteady on his feet more than once, the wave of dizziness that there should be more than enough reason for him to be here, and that this isn't it.

Which is why, when he sees a dark-haired man across a courtyard and something pulls viciously at his stomach, he's off and running toward him. He isn't sure why until he loses sight of the man in a passing crowd, until he's standing there, panting and gasping as he gapes at the spot where Tony had been just moments before.

Tony. This was all for Tony.

The protective spell roars to life in his veins, risking dragging him back to Earth before he's ready. Steve clings to his body, clings to the present moment, and isn't surprised that his forehead is covered in sweat when he finally comes back to himself. He turns to look at his attendant.

"I'm not here for me."

Her face is sad. "No, Captain Rogers. You aren't." She sighs, shaking her head. "A soul so strong, and you would use it thus. Commendable." She looks up at him, her face scrutinising. "Then you do not wish for this world for him?"

"I wish for him to rest, but not before his time."

"It was his time, Captain."

"I don't believe that."

"And yet it is the truth."

"Then I don't accept that."

She smiles, slight and distant. "Very well then, Captain Rogers. I shall take you to Judgment."

Steve can hear the capital letter in the word, can feel the way she leans into the opulence and beauty of this place. He stands up a little taller. "If that is what you wish."

Her smile turns wry and quirked. "It is what you wish, is it not, Captain? To free your lover?"

Steve chokes on air. "He's not— I wasn't— Tony and I—"

She takes pity on him, patting him on the tricep. "Ah. Of course." She steps away, rolling her eyes. "Men," she mutters.

Steve thinks he should be insulted, but can't frankly find it in him to be. He knows he isn't always the most observant when it comes to other people's thoughts about him. Bucky had always said it was the result of too many years all skinny and sickly, when no one had looked at him. He'd internalized it and made it his in a way that was no longer true.

But that wasn't Tony. Tony didn't want him that way. He wanted Pepper. He wanted the beautiful little family he'd built for himself. Wanted what Steve had stolen from him so long ago.

The attendant leads him to a low, long building. She marches him into a room with three high thrones, two of them occupied by individuals in opulent robes. They both startle when Steve enters with his attendant, sitting up straighter. Steve can sense what's coming an instant before it does, and he turns to his attendant in time to catch the shit-eating grin on her face. "Welcome to Judgment, Steve Rogers."

Then she crosses the room, her plain white clothes turning to rich reds and blues, warm and wide and complementing her dark complexion perfectly.

The other two individuals rise as she approaches. She waves them off, settling easily into the middle throne and staring down at Steve. The other two glance at each other, looking bewildered, before turning to look at Steve as they sit down again.

Judgment, she'd said. But of him or of Tony?

"This is your Judgment, Steve Rogers," she says, as though reading his mind. "I am Sayra, and these are Malik and Carin. They are here to confer with me in passing Judgment."

Steve swallows. "I'm not here to start anything. I don't want to get anyone in trouble."

Sayra smiles. "I know, Captain. And you won't. This is for us to ascertain your worth, and the worth of the warrior you have come to retrieve. To determine if you have even a ghost of a chance of bringing him back among the living successfully."

"I will."

Sayra clucks her tongue. "Many have tried, Captain. Few have earned a rightful Judgment, and none have succeeded in bringing their loved ones back among the willing. What makes you so different?"

Steve stands up a little taller. "I have stood beside gods. Fought death incarnate. Given everything I have to make the world the kind of place he could raise a daughter in. And now, to know that he has nothing left? To know that he gave everything that should have been mine to give? To know that he left that whole life behind him?" Steve shakes his head. "I won't stand for it."

Sayra hums. "And this has nothing to do with your feelings for the man called Tony Stark?"

Steve's breath hitches. Truth. Truth has always served him before. "I care for him, yes. More than nearly any other brother-in-arms. He is more than my right-hand man, more than the sword to my shield. He's more than anything or anyone else on this Earth that I love. So yes. Yes, this has something to do with my feelings for Tony. I won't deny that.

"But it's more than that," he says before Sayra can cut him off again. "The world… it grows stagnant without his genius. Without his intelligence and confidence to encourage others to great heights, without him there to stand tall and help them know where to start, to give them that boost they need to be great, the world will stutter and stumble and fall. It will fail. Without Tony, we will all fail."

Sayra tilts her head to the side, looking contemplative. "So you say."

Steve nods. "So I say."

Sayra nods again. "Have you anything else to say for your right to take this man from our ranks?"

"Only that I speak for more than myself. I have with me the blessing of five. The circle of those around him that would insist he not be done harm. That would have me bring him back among the living whole and hale and hearty. I have their blessing, and I ask that you accept it as proof of the world that needs him."

"You think that all you need?"

"No. But I think it might help."

Sayra rests her chin on one fist. "You know much, Traveler. Much more than most that come to our doors. Who is your benefactor?"

"Thor and Loki of Asgard," Steve answers without hesitation.

Sayra smiles, gentle and warm. "I see."

Steve's breath catches. He doesn't dare say more. Doesn't dare lean into the hope that her expression gives him. He meets her eyes and doesn't move, body still and tense as he waits for her word.

"Then we will deliberate, Traveler."

* * *

They pass judgment, but it isn't the judgment that he thought it would be. It isn't the pain and dispassionate loss that he'd expected when he'd come here. Instead it's the kind of gentle warmth that comes with the loss of the ice in his lungs.

"We can give him back to you," Carin says. "We can."

Steve's breath catches. "You can?"

"Yes." Sayra's face is solemn. "But you must prove your worth. You must prove that this is what you want. That this world deserves its champion back in its fold, deserves to have Tony Stark back among the living."

"Anything. I'll do anything."

The judge nods, her face lined and stern. "Then you understand. The moment I bring him here, you must do exactly as I say."

"Whatever it is, I'll do it."

She nods again. "Turn around, Steve Rogers."

Steve frowns, turning on his heel and facing the back of the courtroom. There's a soft whooshing sound, and he stiffens, heart in his throat as he thinks about what's coming. Tony, come to stand before him? Tony, in all his glory even here and now after death? Tony, surely it must be—

There's a sound from behind him. A sharp intake of breath that Steve knows. A sound that he remembers. From the beginning. From the cold asphalt in New York twenty years ago. Tony, on the ground in his suit, arc reactor light dull and unresponsive. He doesn't know how it is that he knows this sound so well, how it is that he's so certain that that's what he's hearing, but he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the person behind him is Tony Stark.

Steve closes his eyes, leaning into the pain and hope and want. "Tony."

There's no reply. Steve wants to turn around, wants to look and be sure, but the judges had told him to turn away. It might have been nothing, might have been simply to give Tony his privacy, or it might have been everything.

It might have been everything.

So Steve stays still, eyes clenched shut as he refuses to turn around to face the man behind him.

There's a hand on his elbow, and Steve startles. He hadn't heard anyone approach. He almost opens his eyes, almost breaks every vow he'd made to get here, but he keeps them clenched shut through force of will alone. This is for Tony. It's all for Tony.

When she speaks, Sayra's voice is warm and even. "You have done well, Steve Rogers. You may open your eyes."

Steve does, his eyes wet and watering as he looks down at Sayra. "Your Eminence."

Her face turns proud. "Indeed. You have proven your worth to us, have proven that your trust and strength may yet be enough to bring your lover home with you."

Steve doesn't bother denying the word. He has Tony behind him, has Tony in his reach for the first time in six years. No need to look too closely at what the judges think of him or their relationship.

"Can I see him?"

Sayra's eyes are soft. "Do you need to?"

"No," Steve says quickly. "I trust in your judgment. I trust in whatever you deem fit to give me."

Malik speaks before Sayra can say anything. "It is the price of Steven's passage to tell his lover the truth of what he will be returning to."

Sayra makes a face, as though she knows the truth of what Malik is saying, but doesn't like it. "He doesn't need to see the man to tell him the truth."

Malik laughs, a cold, unforgiving sound. Steve gets the sense that he hadn't wanted to grant Steve the safe passage that Carin and Sayra had guaranteed. "Speak your truth, Traveler. Let him hear. Let him decide."

Steve glances at Sayra. Her answering smile is small and sad, but she nods once.

"The truth is, Tony…" Steve closes his eyes. "The truth is, Pepper has moved on. She is living a life without you. She is raising your daughter to be the most incredible, stunning woman I could ever have imagined, but she was doing it alone. I failed you, Tony, and didn't stand at her side to help raise your daughter. I left on my vain quest to try to find you. And so she found someone else to help her raise Morgan. A good man, a strong man, one that will protect them both beyond a shadow of a doubt. He will do right by her. But when you return — when we return, she will not be your wife again."

There's no sound from behind him. Steve can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing, if there's something to this that he isn't understanding. If Tony isn't there, isn't actually present, or if he's just standing there, frowning at him while Steve tells him what kind of life he'd be coming back to.

Or maybe he's delusional and Tony isn't even there at all.

Sayra's eyes are locked somewhere over his shoulder, her face scrutinizing and sharp. Then her eyes shift to something gentle and warm and she turns to look at Steve with warmth in her eyes. "Turn around."

Steve's heart clenches, and he starts to turn, but he stops short, unwilling to break the bond of trust that he's forged here. "Are you sure?"

Sayra's face softens. "He is yours to care for, Traveler. Best that you know that which is in your hands."

Steve doesn't waste time. He whips around to face the man that he's spent the last six years seeking out.

Tony's there, dressed in his workshop garb, a black tank top and jeans. The light of the arc reactor shines from beneath the dark fabric as though it had become part of his soul instead of simply a part of his body. He has grease smeared over his hands and face, his hair in wild disarray, and Steve had known on some level that it wasn't Tony in the courtyard that had reminded him of his reason here, but it doesn't make it any less stunning to have the truth forced before his eyes like this. And there, on his left hand, is Pepper's ring.

Steve's never seen anything more beautiful.

"Tony."

Tony tilts his head to the side, as though scrutinizing Steve in all his bedraggled, travel-worn glory. There's a hint of a smile on his lips, something cautious and knowing in the depths of the soul that Steve has always known was Tony's. He nods once, acknowledging Steve's words, but saying nothing more.

Steve looks up at Malik, unwilling to turn away to meet Sayra's eyes lest Tony disappear. "What's wrong with him?"

Malik frowns. "Are you accusing us of not fulfilling our end of the bargain?"

"I've never seen Tony stay quiet for more than thirty seconds at a time. What's wrong with him?"

Sayra's laugh is warm from behind his shoulder. He resists the urge to turn and look at her, too focused on Tony and not letting him disappear from sight. "There's nothing wrong with him, Traveler. He knows there is only one thing he can say to you that will seal the connection that will protect your passage home. He will be bound to you just as much as you will be bound to him."

Steve's breath catches. He doesn't look away from Tony, something in him fearing that this might truly be the last time that he sees the man he loves. "What are you saying?"

Sayra moves to stand between him and Tony. Steve doesn't meet her eyes, too focused on where Tony's waiting halfway across the hall, eyes dark and warm on Steve's. "I'm saying, Traveler, that he knows the cost as well as you do. He knows that, should you fail in your convictions, you will never see each other again. He knows that there is only so much he can do to choose his fate. Should you fail, he would have no recourse. No way to find his way back to you. You are asking him to trust in you completely. To be and do whatever you ask for the next week while you travel back to the land of the living." Steve looks down at Sayra, heart in his throat as he thinks about what that might mean. What it might mean that Tony might not trust him enough to follow him back to earth. Back home. "Have you earned that trust, Traveler?"

Steve doesn't close his eyes. He wants, so badly, to look away from the tableau in front of him. He wants to turn away from the heat and pain and desperation in his chest that isn't at all reflected in Tony's eyes. He doesn't close his eyes because he wants to stand here forever and never take his eyes off of Tony. For his part, Tony just stares at him, unblinking and unrepentant.

"No," Steve says. "No, Your Eminence, I haven't earned that trust. But as I have no choice but to return to Earth, and as there is nothing for me there but his memory, I hope that he will trust in my convictions enough to follow me home."

Tony's face twitches, but the movement is so slight that Steve can't parse its meaning. Steve swallows, refusing to break his gaze. He won't be the first to look away.

Tony turns to look at Carin, his face shifting and melting into warmth and hope. Steve doesn't know what to make of that, doesn't know what he wants, what he hopes from this moment, but he doesn't let his fear control him. He stares dead ahead and lets the man that is his whole world make his choices.

While Tony makes silent conversation with Carin, Sayra speaks to Steve as though to give him the understanding of what is to come. "Worry not about his comfort. Though he may seem ill-dressed for the weather you encountered on your trek here, his soul is impervious to the elements. He will neither freeze nor chill nor suffer for the weather. Do not try to care for the more creature comfort in his body. He needs no drink, no food of the living. For him to partake of either would undo any chance he has at returning. Do not leave it for him, and trust that he will do what he needs to do to survive. To follow you, if he so chooses."

Steve's breath catches. "If he so chooses?"

"If he so chooses. There is much still to be done if he is to survive into the land of the living."

Steve tries not to choke on the pain and hope and want in his throat. "I will do whatever it takes."

"You do not yet know what that will be. Better to wait until you know the full cost before you make such a promise."

Steve turns to look at her, his chest blazing and bright with fury and certainty. "I love him, Your Eminence. There's nothing that will ever change that. I refuse to be anything but the man that he needs me to be. I will bring him home, Your Eminence, without a doubt."

"Turn around."

Steve startles. He hadn't realized he'd looked away from Tony until he'd heard his voice. It's the first words Tony's spoken to him, the only words he's heard from the man's lips. "What?"

Sayra takes up the words, her voice heavy with knowing and grief. "Turn around, Traveler. For this is the truest test of your trust. You must walk to the Gate to return to your world, and if you are to make it there with your lover intact, you must trust the whole way that he will follow you without laying eyes on him again."

Steve looks at Sayra, trying to reconcile the words into something that makes sense. "I can't look at him?"

"Should you lay eyes on him, he will return immediately to these halls and you will be forever barred from Valhalla. From seeing him again. Should you choose to take him above in this way and fail, you will find that he is lost to you forever. Will you take that risk, Traveler?"

Steve turns to look at Tony, his impassive face and his liquid brown eyes. They give nothing away, no hint at what's going on in Tony's mind, no hint at what Steve is asking of him, or what he is asking of Steve in turn. All Steve knows is that this is what he's here for, what he's here to do, and if trusting Tony is the path to bringing him home, then he will pay it.

Steve nods. "I will."

Tony's face stays impassive, but Steve can see what it's costing him to do so. He nods at Steve and speaks two more words. "Turn around."

Steve does.

* * *

It's a long, slow, steady march along the ice and snow outside of Valhalla. Steve trudges along as far and as fierce as he can, eyes front, heart in his throat. If this is the cost of bringing Tony back — to trust him wholly and fully and unrepentantly — then he will do so willingly. It won't be easy — nothing with Tony ever is — but it will be the price Steve will pay for him.

It's a trust in more than just Thor and Loki, more than just the world around them. It's a trust in Tony. That Tony will believe in him. That Tony will follow him. That Tony will choose life over whatever is coming for him in Valhalla. Tony hadn't said three damn words in that great hall, had stood there and met Steve's eyes calm and low and even, easy as anything, and had let Steve lead.

It had never been that easy in life. On Earth. Tony had never bowed to his will so simply, so unerringly, so understandingly before. It rankles under Steve's skin, the fear that this may not even be his Tony that's following him to salvation. That, even if it had been his Tony, that he may not even have chosen to leave that great hall behind him to follow Steve in the first place. It aches down to his bones, down to his soul, and there's so much more to this than just Tony's life. This is _Steve's_ life hanging in the balance too, because what would it be to have come this far and not have the man he loves at his side again. It can't be. It can't be what he wants, what he needs, what the world would be for him. This is the whole world made real and new and theirs and Steve can't breathe for how much he wants this. How much he wants Tony to get to see his daughter, beautiful and grown and so much more than Steve ever could have thought she would be. Tony must have known she'd be incredible — fathers always seemed to — but knowing is so much less than seeing. Understanding. Watching the way Morgan moves through the world as the days pass. Watching the ways she's grown and become so much more. It's too much. It's too much.

On the third day, Steve starts talking. He doesn't expect a response, but anything has to be better than the silence he's endured the last two days. The silence aside from the sound of his feet crunching through the snow.

So on the third day, Steve starts talking.

"Everyone misses you, Tony. You've always been bigger than life, but there's something about you that was even bigger in death.

"Clint, he was the first one to kneel after you died. I know you and he didn't see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, and I know how much it hurt you that he went rogue, but he knew what you'd done for us. For the world. He was the first one to really understand. To own it in a way that no one else did or could. He misses you Tony.

"Bruce, he's not the same without you. He's still brilliant, still working just as hard as anyone ever could have expected him to, still fighting the good fight, but it's not the same without you. None of it is.

"Wanda, Strange… they may not have known you as well, but they know what you gave up for us. They know who you are. Who you've always been. They know, Tony, and they need you back as much as any of the rest of us.

"And Peter… god, Tony. He needed you so much. _Needs_ you so much. He's a strong kid, yeah, and he's a damn sight more than any of us ever could have seen, but you, Tony… you knew. You saw his potential and nurtured it beyond what any of us could have imagined, beyond what any of us could have seen. And he's gone so far, Tony. He's so much more than any of us could have helped him become. Any of us but you.

"Rhodes is more than he ever could have been, larger than life and doing more for our home than anyone would ever have asked of him. He's everything you knew he would be, everything you trusted everyone around you to be. He's done so much, Tony, I can't even begin to say.

"Pepper… Tony, Pepper's done so much. She's so strong and brave and wonderful. She took everything you left behind and made it so much more than anyone could have imagined or helped her do. She took what you left behind and made it real. She's done so much, Tony. So much more than I could ever have imagined or helped her understand."

"And then. And then there's Morgan." Steve's voice breaks on the word. "God, Tony. Morgan. She's so… she's brilliant and strong, so much more than anyone ever could have known she would be. She has all of your brilliance and all of Pepper's poise. She's strong and she's brave and she's quick on the draw, faster than anyone ever could have anticipated. There's a whole world there to be taken, to be consumed, and she takes it all and makes it better. She's everything, Tony. Everything.

"And I hate that you didn't get to see her grow up. I hate that you've missed the last six years. I hate that she hasn't had her father by her side in all this time. She deserved better. _You_ deserved better. And I'm sorry— I'm sorry it took so long for me to find a way to bring you back. I'm sorry I didn't look closer. Didn't look harder. I'm so sorry, Tony. I'm so sorry."

Steve knows the ghost of a hand he feels on his shoulder is just his imagination running wild, hoping and praying for something that Tony won't— _can't_ give him. It's so much, all that he needs and all that he wants, but he knows it isn't real. It's just his mind playing tricks on him, giving him what he wants even when it isn't what he deserves. Isn't real.

Still. He closes his eyes and stops walking, lets the phantom touch of Tony's hand ground him and remind him that, even if he wasn't fast enough, he's still found a way to bring them together again. To bring the world forward to them. To make Tony's legacy live and last in his hands, in his world. There's so much that Tony deserves that he'll never get to have, but this, at least, Steve can have. Steve can give him.

Steve leans into the touch ever so slightly, heart in his throat as he presses up against Tony. What might be Tony.

It's too much, too close, too painful and there's a whole world around him waiting for him on the other side.

He settles in for the night to rest, his back always turned to the sun. It will be easy to wake in the morning and know that the world is awakening in the morning.

When the sun rises, light pressed against his eyes, he keeps them clenched shut. There’s a breath of wind against the back of his neck. Wind and maybe — maybe the hint of Tony’s fingers on his skin. It’s perfect and easy and warm as he rests in the rising sun, the wisp and wonder and memory of Tony’s fingers on his neck.

He keeps his eyes closed and waits until the sun has crested the horizon, and the world is warm and waking. He leans into the touch, and as he leans into it, it disappears. The world twists and bends around him, aching and haunting and whole. He leans away from the warmth and the ache, turning into the world as he wakes. His heart and world break and bend and there’s so much still to do.

Steve stays facing front, eyes and ears turned toward the horizon while he packs up the campsite around them, his strength and world wrapped up in his satchel as he moves. He packs his bag and faces front and returns to his march.

The world is huge and aching and beautiful before him. He marches on, the world moving along with him, and time moves in slippery smooth grains of sand through his hands.

He talks more and more as the days pass, his throat going hoarse as he walks, his feet aching under his legs. The march feels longer than the path forward had felt, the whole world pressed against his skin. It's a longer march than he could ever have thought it would be, and there are still days and days to go.

But each night as he beds down, he imagines he can feel the ground settle when Tony lies down beside him. Each morning as he wakes, that brush of fingertips against his neck returns, his heart in his throat as he imagines it is more than he thought it would have been otherwise. And each day as he marches on, he talks and talks and talks, his voice going hoarse with want and need for the response he knows Tony can't provide.

He never asks for one. Just hopes that Tony knows how much he wants one.

* * *

When he wakes on the seventh day, some small part of him knows that this is the last day of travel. That, whatever the last two weeks have been, what is in front of him will be decided today.

He packs up as usual, eyeing the satchel of provisions that Thor had given him. It's mostly empty, but not completely, and it takes all his strength to not offer some of the food to Tony. They'd told him not to. He won't.

He throws the satchel over his shoulders and makes his way toward the pull in his sternum, following the same path he'd been following for the last week. The sun has just passed its zenith when the faint outline of a gate appears in the distance. Steve's breath catches in his chest. That's it, that's the thing he's been searching for all this time. The whole world wrapped up in his heart and soul. His body goes tense and tight as he stops short, staring forward at the gate. He thinks he hears someone stumble behind him, feels Tony bump against his suddenly still form, but he can't. It's just his imagination.

The closer he gets to the gate, the less certain his steps become. He's come this far on faith and hope alone, but he can feel the doubt begin to creep up over his head as though to drown him. He wants to want this, wants to believe that this is what he's looking for, what he's always wanted, but he can't.

He's too scared.

Still, he moves forward, and sooner than he would like he comes to stand before the gate, his head tipped back to see the highest point of its arch, gold and gleaming around the thick dark wood of the doors. Steve ghosts his fingers over the varnish, twitching them away when he thinks he feels them move under his touch. He's not ready to go, not yet, not ready to be what they need him to be. What they want him to be. He's not ready to pass through to the other side. His fear, his hope, the tension in his chest is enough to have him fearing that he might stumble and fall, might fail here at the last stage of his journey. He doesn't want to believe it, doesn't want to see what the world will be like if he has to return without Tony standing at his side, without the whisper-sweet memory of Tony at his back.

He doesn't want to risk losing it.

He feels immobilized, stuck between past and future, between whole and broken. He wants to know, wants so badly to believe that Tony really has followed him this far. It would have been so easy for Tony to turn away, to return to Valhalla and leave Steve here, standing at the precipice with nothing at his back.

_One look. Just one look. Then you could be certain._

Steve jerks back at the sound of the words. They resonate somewhere deep in his soul, aching and echoing in a way that he can't put to words. Because he could. He could turn and look behind him and see if Tony's there or not. If he'd followed Steve this far or not. It's tempting, and there's a split second where he almost does it. He's half turned toward what's behind him when Sayra's words return to him.

_You must trust the whole way that he will follow you without laying eyes on him again._

This must be it. The final test of his trust in Tony. The final test of how badly he wants to bring Tony back to the world of the living. If he can do this — trust Tony enough to move forward without looking back — then maybe it will be enough.

But for the first time since he walked out of the great hall days ago, he wonders if he really has that strength. The ability to trust in what Tony is and does and has done for him. Because Tony is so much more than Steve has ever given him credit for, more than he can trust in himself. If it were Tony here, standing at the gate and looking ahead, wondering what the world will be like on the other side with or without Steve, Steve knows he wouldn't even hesitate. He would walk through, burning bright and certain in that way that Tony always had. There's a whole world waiting for Steve on the other side, but standing here, heart in his throat while he stares at the wide tall doors, he can't believe in himself enough to step through to the other side. There's so much here, so much in the world that he can't reach for, and there's a sense in his gut that if he's going to walk through the doors and out onto the other side, with or without Tony, he's going to find out that Tony hadn't followed him. There's a moment where he can't breathe, can't think, can't understand what the world will be like at the other end of the earth without Tony.

The phantom sensation of a hand at his elbow has him jerking out of his reverie. It's not Tony — it can't be — but it's someone, some _thing_ trying to make him understand. Trying to reach through the daze in his mind to tell him the truth.

_Just one look._

The hand tightens around his elbow, and all at once Steve is struck with the image of Tony meeting his eyes and nodding. Just once. Perfect. Slow. Definitive.

Trust.

Steve closes his eyes. There's only one way to make this right. "I love you. I want to say that I don't care if you're not here behind me, but Tony… I love you. I have loved you for years, and I will love you for the rest of my life. Even if that means continuing on without you, I will not make a mockery of what you sacrificed for us. Not anymore. I'm sorry I haven't been good enough so far. I'm going to do better. With or without you. I promise."

The wind picks up around him, and Steve feels snowflakes on his cheeks, melting almost instantly to run like tear tracks down his cheeks.

"I love you."

Then he stumbles forward, hands coming to rest hard against the doors and, with only a moment's hesitation, throwing them open so he can step through into the light.

_I love you too._

* * *

Morgan is waiting on the other side.

Steve pulls up short, his breath seizing in his chest. Morgan. He'd done this for her, in as much as he'd done it for anyone but himself, and if he's failed—

"Uncle Steve?" Morgan's eyes take him in, racing over his form and the space around him. He tries to fill his lungs with oxygen instead of the cloying sweetness of Valhalla, tries to return entirely to the present moment. "Uncle Steve, did he…?"

Steve opens his mouth, desperate to answer, but the truth is that he doesn't know the answer. He doesn't know if Tony followed him, and after days of refusing to look, days of refusing to give in, he doesn't have the strength to do so now.

"Uncle Steve?"

Steve clamps his eyes shut at the tremble in Morgan's voice. If she doesn't see him—

There's a hand at his elbow again, and Steve feels his whole body go tense and alert. This could be another trick, more deceit, one last opportunity for them to take Tony away from him and if he gives in—

_Turn around._

The voice has Steve jerking in place, and he can see Pepper rounding the corner into the living room, can see Morgan rising from the couch, and for a split second Steve is certain that the strain of the last few days might be what finally does him in.

_Turn around._

"What if you're not there?" Steve's voice is a whisper, and he can see the way Morgan's eyes go wide. "What if I wasn't enough?"

_I am. And you were._

" _Tony_ —"

_Trust me. Just like I trusted you._

"I—"

_Please._

Steve closes his eyes. In slow motion, he turns his head to look over his shoulder. He waits for just one moment, one moment hovering in an eternity, before he exhales and opens his eyes.

Tony.

Steve inhales sharply as Tony meets his eyes directly. The moment stretches, gossamer thin and drifting, and Steve can't move. Then Morgan shrieks "Dad" and launches herself to her feet and into Tony's arms with all the energy of a daughter reunited with her father. The force of her hug makes Tony break eye contact with Steve, staggers a few steps away as though recoiling from the intensity of the look Tony had given him. Tony's face splits with a smile when he sees Morgan, and all at once Steve knows he's overstayed his welcome.

It's time for him to leave.

* * *

Tony finds him three hours later. Steve doesn't look up when Tony approaches. He knows the sound of Tony's steps and has for years.

It's something he never thought he'd hear again.

Tony comes to a stop a foot behind Steve's right shoulder. Steve closes his eyes, trying to fight down the desire to breathe in deeply enough to smell Tony again. He's not about to creep Tony out any more than he probably already has, chasing him to the underworld and all.

The silence is too much, too heavy and uncertain and Steve wants to fill it with something lighter than the weight in his chest. Something less than the pain of the last few years. Something. Anything.

"Does Pepper know you're here?" Well. That's a hell of a way to start the conversation.

"That's not seriously what you want to talk about is it?"

Steve closes his eyes. It's the first time in years that he's actually heard Tony's voice in the real world. There's a lump in his throat that he can't seem to swallow past. He wants to speak before Tony can say anything, but the words don't seem to come.

"You came to get me."

Steve's chest clenches. "Tony—"

"You came to get me."

"I did."

"Why?"

Steve's heart aches and all he wants is to know that Tony's happy. To know that this was worth it. That Tony wasn't regretting following him this far.

"Steve."

"What do you want me to say?" Steve's voice is sandpaper and broken glass. "That I had to make everything right again and that this was the only way to do it? That I'm a stubborn bastard that refused to accept reality? That I felt too damn guilty leaving you behind when you'd already given so much? I had to watch Morgan grow up when you couldn't, Tony. I had to watch Pepper mourn, watch the _world_ mourn when it shouldn't have been you.

"What do you want me to say, Tony?"

Steve misses the sound of Tony's feet on the ground amidst his words. What he doesn't miss is Tony's fingers on the back of his hand before the slide forward to lace with his. He inhales sharply, stilling under Tony's hand.

"Tony—"

"Breathe, Steve. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm just here to ask you a question."

"I don't know what you want from me, Tony.

"The truth, Steve. That's all I've ever wanted."

Steve takes his time, letting his thoughts settle. He turns his hand over so that Tony's fingers fall into the spaces between his, but he doesn't interlace them. "I came because I couldn't live without you. I tried, Tony. I tried to live my life. I tried to do what you wanted me to do. I really tried, Tony. But I just. I couldn't." He swallows as best he can, his throat still tight and aching. "I'd done that for too long already.

"So I looked. I looked until I'd run out of options and then I kept on looking. I couldn't do this without you, Tony. Even if I could, I didn't want to. Not again. Not anymore."

Tony curls his fingers through the spaces in Steve's, interlacing them. "I know."

Steve blinks his eyes open, feeling a tear run down his cheek. Then the words penetrate the haze in his mind. He turns to look at Tony. "What?"

Tony's answering smile is soft and knowing, gentle in ways that Steve had forgotten that Tony could be. He'd known, of course. But somehow he'd forgotten. "I know, Steve."

"How?"

Tony reaches up with his other hand, tucking Steve's hair behind his ear. "Because I know you. I always have."

Steve blinks hard, trying to fight down the threat of tears. "It's not that simple, Tony. It can't be."

"But it is." Tony slides his hand down to cup Steve's cheek. "It always has been."

"Tony—"

"I know where we've been. I also know where I want us to go. If you're willing to come with me. Are you?"

Something loosens in Steve's chest. Something that's been tight in his chest for years. "Where do you want to go."

"Anywhere," Tony whispers. "As long as it's with you."

"And Morgan."

"And Morgan," Tony says with a small laugh. "That's all I want." He leans forward, resting his forehead against Steve's. "I know it's a lot to ask—"

"It really isn't."

"—but I'm asking. You came this far for me. How far are you willing to go?"

Steve's heart is thick in his throat. He expects Tony to pull away when the words don't come, but he doesn't. He stays there, a warm, living presence in Steve's orbit, and Steve can't help the way he closes his eyes and leans in closer.

He wets his lips. "How far do you want me to go?"

Tony smiles. He moves slowly, telegraphing the movement before he brushes his lips against Steve's. "Everywhere. I want you to go everywhere with me. Be mine, Steve. You tore down the veil between life and death to bring me back. You might as well take full advantage of that fact."

"Yeah?"

Tony smiles against his lips. "Yeah."

Steve's the first to give in. He leans forward and kisses Tony firmly, but chastely. Tony slides his hand around to the base of Steve's neck, his fingers threading through his hair as he pulls him into a deeper kiss. Steve smiles against him, feeling warm down to his toes. It's everything he'd never thought he'd have again in front of him.

"But what about Pepper?" Steve asks when he finally pulls away.

"What about Pepper?"

"I mean, you two were… You were together," he says when Tony doesn't fill in the blank for him.

"We were. And then we agreed that we were better as co-parents than as spouses. Steve, we hadn't been together for eighteen months before you… came back."

Steve's heart stutters in his chest. "Tony, I'm so—"

Tony shakes his head and leans in to briefly kiss Steve again. "It brought you back to me, Steve. Brought me back to you. It's okay, Steve. It's okay."

Steve doesn't quite believe him yet. He wants to, but he isn't there yet. Tony understands, though, and presses a kiss to Steve's cheek. "Come on," he says as he gets to his feet. "Let's go back inside."

Steve takes Tony's outstretched hand and leans into his side, pulling him in close. They have time to figure out the rest of this. Right now, all they need is to be together again.

Steve turns to Tony, pressing his nose against Tony's temple. "Tony…"

Tony chuckles and leans against Steve. "I know."

Seve blinks. "But I didn't say it."

"You don't have to." Tony turns his head and smiles at Steve. "You came and got me, Steve. That's all the proof I need."

"That doesn't mean I don't need to say it."

"Maybe," Tony concedes, "but you have the rest of our lives to say it."

Steve's heart flutters in his chest. "Promise?"

"Yeah." Tony pushes up on tiptoe to kiss the corner of Steve's mouth. "Yeah, I promise."

Steve rests his forehead against Tony's as he drops back down. "I love you."

There's a smile in Tony's voice as he replies. "I love you too."

And that, in the end, is what had made all the difference.


End file.
